#poetry love wordporn ink romance

[uanabanana]

i wish i had the experience of living in the past century, falling in love and writing romantic letters. it's another level of intimacy and i crave it!

[letterstoyoursoul-byrem]

My favourite days are the ones where I see you reading through the reflection of my mirror. Coffee long forgotten and abandoned by your fingers that are now too busy holding the page to be changed, eyes peaking through your lashes and lips that change expression with the plot. Souvenirs of you that I'll share with the moon and paint under it.

My favourite days are spent making memories of you to taint my existence with.

- just the moon, I and your memories ♡

[poedes]

Keep moving

I don’t want to sit down right now

To tell you how I feel

I just want to dance

To show what is real

Here we are so far away

From everything we had

Will we survive this

New Now

Somehow

I don’t want to sit down right now

To tell you how I feel

We talk for ages through the screen

We never once thought this would be

It’s just like in a bad dream

And honestly I’d like to scream

But I hold my breath

And do what’s best

For now

But... I long the touch, the kiss, the hugs

I don’t want to sit down right now

And tell you how I feel

In my thoughts...

Art is like a soul

Sometimes realistic

Sometimes phantasmagoric

Sometimes abstract

Abstract makes me think the most

I stand and look and find things I see

Another person might not see what I see in abstract

It’s why I say it’s like a soul

Because you have to look so deep

You return to yourself

The world around you stands still

Until you’ve seen what you were searching for

You move on

You keep moving

I don’t want to sit down right now

To tell you how I feel

I keep moving

Keep moving

Moving

PoeDes© 2020

[hersoulunraveled]

[definegodliness]

Messy love

Whenever amassing small change enough, He pays the right fair and hops on the bus That travels the lengths toward Messy love.

The ache of missing her fades as the fuss Of metropolitan survival seeps Out of his thoughts with a sigh and a cuss:

"How lucky I am To shake off these creeps Obsessed with greed's cannibalistic feast; Fucked up by this city that never

            Ever

                         Ever                                         Fucking sleeps ---"

He quiets mid-thought as the bus turns east Toward messy love, pushed forth by the sun; Toward the equal who leaves him appeased.

Tonight, as their wounded souls fuse as one, She'll tell him their story has just begun.

--- 31-1-2021, M.A. Tempels © “... a terza rima.”

[blackorchld]

That little kiss you stole, it held my heart and soul, and like a deer in the headlights I meet my fate

[shesapoet09]

How lucky am I to know a girl like you? I met you at the most perfect timing. No one has ever made me feel this good. No one has touched me like you do. You do all the little things that I want and need and you dont even have to try, it's just who you are. Fuck, I'm falling for you. It's a bit scary when I think about it too much. I've been let down one too many times. But, I trust you. And if you end up hurting me too, I wouldn't mind.

10/9/19

[wearelostpoets]

I don’t know why I keep having these blasé and anticlimactic relationships. Where are the people with fire?

[yasminali-poetry]

I’m a romantic at heart. I want to wear flowers in my hair and lacey shorts around my thighs, have a kitten called Cupcake and chase the bumblebees together in a field of daffodils stretching as far as the eye can see.    She gets called a rebel, with her red lipstick and leather jacket, more rings in her ears than around her fingers. She drinks wine straight from the bottle, listening intently as I tell her about my dreams, before she relays her own about ditching our grey town in a pick-up truck, and...  I think we go quite well together.

Yasmin Ali 

[praditak]

[a-pen-and-some-words]

I’ve always had this rumination, about love. Wonder towards how others feel it, believe in it, what taste it leaves in their mouth. How or rather with what exact and perfectly unique method it takes hold of a person and re-colors their world in a million different shades of indescribable color, where feelings are felt with such rawness and intensity and the illusion of invulnerability is shattered into billions of tiny little pieces left broken and scattered. And it is among these shards we prance barefooted, as if to mistake glass for rose petals because regardless of the risk of being cut, there’s nothing quite like opening your chest to someone and having them admire the art you hold within.

d.c.

[uanabanana]

my parents never got along, but i least i grew up beside two parents. no matter their marriage issues, they never reflected hatred towards me. in fact, they individually are good people with golden hearts and have loved me the same since day one.

and sometimes i forget that. i focus on what they could've been or how they could've acted, but i forget to be grateful for their immeasurable sacrifices they made so i could be happy. their unconditional love. their support. their teachings.

it's hard seeing them getting older, more and more against each other. they seem to get insane too - i'm afraid my mom's explosive temperament would eventually come to her; and my dad, well, he drowns his unspoken words in alcohol and his feelings in cigarettes.

however, despite these flaws, they remained consistent, dedicated, and involved in my well-being. and i praise them for that. not many parents are able to separate marriage from parenthood.

[letterstoyoursoul-byrem]

Intimacy

They say it's being naked in vulnerability

but I say it is being clothed in vulnerability

It is losing the armor of shame,

risking your sanity and melting

with the way your lover says your name.

Intimacy is to be stripped of all of this worlds

inhibitions and to weave memoirs with the thread

of fate.

- by rem🌙

[poedes]

WHAT MATTERED

~part one

What mattered were the birds singing in the morning

The breeze moving the curtains softly

His steady breathing next to me

The first rays of sun gliding over our bare skin

The feel of the night that had passed...

~part two

Yet returning to the place

long abandoned

whithered by time

my thoughts still fresh

the beauty of how it was

embedded forever in my mind

that mattered...

~part three

The corridors where empty now

but in my mind I heard the long gone voices

the women fanning the charcoal fires outside

the -thum thum thum- rhythm pounding Fufu

Asante playing the Djembe

Kwesi playing the fool on his guitar

Business as usual

Ama, Kukwa, Rachel and Mercy doing the Jump Step

clapping their hands to the beat

Little Mary was dancing around in the red dress

with the white dots that I had brought for her

The odour of Killi Willi past my nose

the sweet smell sending me into the

Buzz of everyday life but also into Heaven

the Khebabs were sizzling on the grill

From inside the house came soft sounds of Jazz

I came back to reality looking at the ruin

A Chicken was running through the grass

There was still life here, thought I and smiled

I was glad to have come

I had made sure to come

and have a look at my 'Beginning' again

It's what mattered...

PoeDes©

[hersoulunraveled]

[every-word-written]

Letters to you

Flashing lights and blaring sounds

Blinked passes of time

A letter to whoever it may concern

Words to a love of mine.

Empty barrels of eternal flow

Bleed and conquer it will

I write to you with love sowed

Read and shudder you still.

Patterns broken and jointed again

Pages creased and old

Turn with love this letter soft

Read a story untold.

Not a soul to speak out loud

Not a shadow in the dark

A letter of jumbled words

Of suppressed shouts and harks.

I call to you with paces slow

Touches that forget to leave

Letter that holds the fragrance

Of fingers knitted and weaved.